


What the Water Gave Us

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Canon Divergence, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Protective Negan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick and Aaron come home from their scavenging trip early and catch Negan and the Saviors at the gate. When Rick mentions that they had to leave some things behind, Negan suggests a road trip, just the two of them.





	What the Water Gave Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is a commission for fuckyeahjeffrey-dean-morgan on Tumblr. It's actually based on a really great [art piece](http://luluxa.tumblr.com/post/165515849086) , go check it out!
> 
> Canon divergence, because Rick wouldn't be quite as amicable toward Negan if he came home to find Olivia and Spencer dead.

“Ho-ly shit, Rick! Would you look at _this_.” Negan whistled, circling the sizable tribute that the Saviors were loading into the back of one of their trucks. “Goddamn, this was a hard day’s work, wasn’t it?” He arched an eyebrow at Rick’s still-soggy clothes, his gaze lingering a second too long for Rick’s comfort on the way his damp shirt clung to his chest. “Where’d you find all this shit? Bottom of a fucking lake? You go fucking scuba diving?”

Rick gritted his teeth, trying not to seethe as he watched the Saviors whisk away the hard-won results of his and Aaron’s multi-day scavenging trip. He was bone-weary, having woken up a little past five in the morning and paddled his way across a pond of the undead to scrape together this week’s tribute. “Aaron and I found a houseboat floatin’ in the middle of a pond about ten hours west. Some survivalist type- left a bunch of signs up warning people off his property.” _Leslie William Stanton_ , one of the signs had proclaimed. “Must have been dead or run off, because the signs said he’d shoot on sight if people got near the place.”

Negan’s eyebrows were still halfway up his forehead. “And you _still_ went after his shit? Good for you, Rick. _Good for you_. See, you’re giving me that mean-ass glare of yours right now, but you’re still out there. Providing for me. You’re swallowing your hate and gettin’ shit done. I like that. It takes guts.” He swung an arm around Rick’s shoulders, ignoring the way he stiffened beneath the friendly touch. “You cleared that place the fuck out, huh?”

“This is a little more than half of it,” Rick replied. “Only way to get over was a canoe- not a lot of room for supplies without it sinkin’. The lake was full of the dead.” Nearly got Aaron, Rick almost tacked on. He bit it back- no point telling him that. _He doesn’t care._ “We were about to go back for the rest when the thing sprung a leak and sank to the bottom. By that time the walkers were all riled up and we knew we weren’t gonna make it back again. Figured we’d come back and find a boat then head back over there for the rest.”

As soon as he said it Rick cringed, realizing he’d just told Negan where he and his men could find a literal boatload of free supplies. _Damn it_ , he cursed himself, _probably just cost us a week’s tribute-_

“You need a boat, Rick?” Negan interrupted his dreary thoughts eagerly. “We’ve got one I can lend you. Nothin’ fancy, but it’ll get the job done just fine.”

Rick blinked up at Negan, his mind whirring to a confused halt. Why would he offer…?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Negan said, beginning to steer them away from the gates and down the street toward Rick’s house, “why would I help you out? Just offer up some of my shit? Why not just make you go out and find a goddamn boat yourself?” He paused, looking down at Rick as though expecting him to reply.

“Yeah,” Rick mumbled, unsure of what he was supposed to be saying. Negan talked more than enough for the both of them.

“I’ll tell you why, Rick,” Negan said, curling his arm a little tighter around his shoulders, tucking the smaller man against him. “It’s because I _like_ you. Like I said- you’ve got guts. I can respect the hell out of that. You’re a man who gets shit done, and I think that needs to be rewarded, don’t you? We’re not about to use that boat, anyway- may as well lend it out so we can get a nice little offering next week, right? I’d hate for anything to fucking happen to you while you’re out there fetching for me like a _good boy._ ”

Rick bit down on his tongue, his face flushing the way it always seemed to whenever Negan said things like that- just on the cusp of something obscene, something flirtatious lurking below the surface of teasing words.

“Why do you care?” He asked, a little sharper than he intended, and a cold thrum of fear wavered through him when Negan stilled mid-stride.

 _I’m sorry_ , he almost said, but Negan spoke before he could choke out the words.

“You do good work for me, Rick.” There was an odd quality to Negan’s voice that Rick couldn’t quite put his finger on- something that sounded nearly genuine, though Rick was wary to believe it. “I’ve seen the rest of the sorry fuckers that live here, and I’m not impressed. You?” His tongue slid between his teeth in a gesture that left Rick’s insides feeling a bit shaken. “You impressed me, Rick. Right from the start, remember?”

Again with the pause, the expectant look on Negan’s face. Rick stared up at him blankly- he always felt so lost in conversations with Negan, like he was always one step behind, missing some important piece of the endless puzzle that was the man in the leather jacket.

“ _You, sir, are special_ ,” Negan said, sounding like he was reciting a line. “I told you that, remember? And you’ve been proving me right time and time again.”

Rick couldn’t fathom _how_ \- he’d spent the last two week since his initial _introduction_ of sorts to Negan in a bleak fog, feeling more broken and beaten-down than he had in a very, very long time. The closest that anything came to touching it was when the Prison had fallen- how he’d been beaten to within an inch of his life, how they’d lost Hershel and he thought Judith was dead, how he and Carl had holed up in an abandoned house for a couple days, directionless and wounded and separated from the rest of their group.

He felt nearly as hollowed-out now as he had then. How Negan could see anything special in him was beyond his understanding. He’d caught onto _something_ with him, though- some dark, hungry glint in his eyes when Negan sized him up. It left him feeling strangely stripped and very nearly frustrated. Hell if he was able to put his finger on exactly _why_ , though.

He let Negan lead him up the steps to his house and up the staircase, so gone on exhaustion that he didn’t immediately register that the man was in his house, where his _children_ were-

Except that Negan didn’t seem shocked to see Judith bouncing on Carl’s knee on the couch. “I met your _other_ kid today, Rick. She’s an absolute fuckin’ _angel_ , isn’t she? Makes me want to move right into suburbia. We could be neighbors. Grill out together and shit.”

Rick felt nearly stricken with horror that Negan knew about Judith, and the other man caught the terrified look on his face, his hazel eyes turning to steel. “Now, I know you’re not thinking what it looks like you’re thinking right now, Rick. You think I’d hurt her? She’s what, a year old? Jesus fucking Christ, Rick. I know we didn’t start off on the best note, but you think I’d fucking _kill_ your baby girl?”

Rick swallowed and swallowed against a dry throat, shaking his head as if he could clear out the weary fog clouding his thoughts. “I-”

Negan frowned deeply, shoving Rick a little roughly toward the stairs. “That fucking hurts, Rick. It really does. Now get your ass in the shower, you smell like the inside of Moby Dick’s goddamned corpse. I’m not driving around with you for a day smelling like that.”

Rick stumbled, grasping at the railing weakly. “You’re- driving around with…?”

“With _you_ , Rick, yeah,” Negan intoned slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “I’m not about to send your ass out to get all that shit alone. And as you just made crystal clear, we need to get to know each other. If you think I’d really kill a fucking baby, I think there’s some shit we need to talk about. So we’re gonna go out there together, just you and me, and have a little heart-to-heart. Just get it all out in the open, as it were. So hop the fuck to it. We’re burning daylight.”

* * *

Negan watched as Rick stumbled, towel-clad and dripping, into his bedroom and haphazardly kicked the door closed behind himself. He felt the barest twinge of guilt deep in his gut- _taking advantage_ , his mind reprimanded him even as his eyes ate up the sight of Rick’s bare chest. He was just as lithe and muscled as he looked beneath his favored button-up shirts, and Negan had done more than his fair share of looking.

He was also, as Negan had seen up-close and personal, worn down to the point of bleary exhaustion, practically dead on his feet with dark purple smudges beneath his tired blue eyes. Another reason Negan was accompanying him on this little trip- he wanted the job done now, lest some other enterprising person swept in and cleared the place out for themselves, and Rick, the best man for the job, was in no shape to go back out there on his own. He knew the man wasn’t happy about Negan coming along- Rick’s distaste for the idea had been written plainly across his pretty face, too fatigued to stuff down his emotions the way he usually did.

Joke was on him- Negan planned on being a perfect gentleman. He’d already radioed back to one of his men at the Sanctuary to tell them to book it over here with the boat in tow so they could be ready to go.

Rick made his way downstairs a few minutes later, dressed in blue and pushing wet hair out of his face. He turned to Carl, and Negan caught a flash of regretful sadness in his eyes. “I’ve gotta go back out there. I’m sorry- I’ll be back soon. About a day. Already know where we’re going.”

Negan had to commend the kid- either he was truly the stone cold future serial killer that Negan had pegged him to be, or he was so used to his overworked father being whisked away for days at a time that it no longer phased him.

“Alright. I’ll take care of Judith.”

Something tightened uncomfortably in Negan’s chest as he watched Rick kiss his children goodbye, and he looked away.

_I’ll make sure he comes back in one fucking piece._

“You need to eat something, Rick,” he said, placing one guiding hand on the small of Rick’s back. Rick, soft in his sleepiness, let himself be led to the kitchen table, still set from his dinner with Carl and Olivia. “Got some time before the boat gets here. We already ate- I was gettin’ antsy waiting on you to show the fuck up. Made you spaghetti. You like spaghetti?” Like anyone had the luxury of preferences these days.

Surprisingly, Rick nodded, all but shoveling down heaping forkfuls of pasta when Negan sat a plate in front of him. Negan watched him eat from the seat across the table. Rick was practically inhaling his food, downing two biscuits and then going back to the pasta. A thought struck him, sudden and unsettling- was Rick eating? He thought back to the way Rick had offered himself up when he’d thought Negan was going to follow through with cutting Carl’s arm off. _It can be me,_ he’d said. _I can go with you._

 _Fucking martyr types_ , Negan frowned.

“You been getting enough to eat, Rick?” He wasn’t sure why he cared, why he was asking. _If he’s not eating, it’s none of my damn concern. Not my problem. He should get out there and do better if he’s going hungry._

It was hard to really _mean_ the words when Rick was sitting here about to fall asleep in his seat and getting ready to go out and scavenge again.

Rick tilted his head at him, like he didn’t quite understand why Negan was asking either. “I’m fine. I get enough.”

Negan gritted his teeth, eyeing Rick's half-eaten plate of pasta. “Doesn’t look like it, Rick.”

Rick slowed his chewing, dropping the third biscuit he’d just reached for and looking nearly ashamed of himself. He straightened slowly in his seat, seeming to realize how desperate he must have appeared just then.

He began to scrape the last of his spaghetti back into the bowl- _saving it for someone else_ , Negan realized, and remorse choked him.

“Rick, I-” the man’s blue eyes flicked up to him, and he frowned. “Finish your dinner, Rick. That’s not what I meant. You need to eat. You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead.”

Rick finished obediently, albeit more slowly than before, picking at his food like each bite was a burden. It made Negan want to reach over and shake him, scream that _I need you alive, I need you healthy, I need you to be okay, I need you-_

Static crackled on Negan’s radio, and when he answered it, Simon’s voice sprung up on the other line. “Boss? I’m at the gates with the boat. You want me to come in?”

Negan watched as Rick scurried to tidy up his kitchen, shoving leftovers into plastic containers and tucking it away in the fridge. “Nah, just leave it. I’m goin’ on a little trip. Be back in a day or so. And if I’m not back by then…” Rick froze where he stood, their eyes locking in a silent understanding: there will be no funny business on this trip, or your people will be paying for it in blood. “There’s a man here by the name of Aaron who should know where we’re going. I’m sure he’ll talk if you ask _just_ right.”

* * *

Rick gave Negan a searching look when he placed himself behind the wheel of the truck and gestured for Rick to hop up beside him in the passenger seat. “I’m the one who knows where we’re going, shouldn’t I…?”

Negan cut him off with a firm shake of his head. “Nope. No offense, Rick, but you look like you’re halfway down the road to bein’ one of the undead. You just tell me how to get there and I’ll do the driving for the first few hours. Don’t want you fucking falling asleep at the wheel and getting us both killed.”

Rick didn’t look happy about it- _trouble giving up control, even now_ \- but he obeyed, climbing into the passenger side and fishing an old, well-worn map of Virginia out of the glove compartment. “It’s about here,” he said, tracing a finger down a marked road. “Aaron and I mapped out the route we took, should be pretty straightforward.”

Negan nodded, propping the map up on the dashboard. “Fuckin’ A. Good thinking, keeping tabs on your shit like this.” As they pulled out onto the road, he noticed the way Rick was holding himself- upright and focused as he could force himself to be, eyes following the road vigilantly. “Get some fucking sleep, Rick. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, no point in stayin’ awake the whole time if you don’t need to.”

He already knew Rick would fight him on it the second the words left his mouth. That was just who Rick was: stubborn and self-reliant, even when he shouldn’t be. “I’m alright,” he said, predictably, and Negan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure you fucking are, Rick. And hell, I get it. Don’t want to let your guard down around _big bad Negan_ , am I right? But I’m telling you- you need to get some fucking shut-eye. I came along on this little trip so you wouldn’t get your ass killed tryin’ to do this shit half-asleep, and I don’t really want you getting _my_ ass killed because you’re half asleep. So go on.” When Rick remained resolute, jaw set in that infuriating way, Negan sighed. “It’s sleep or spend the next five hours spending some quality bonding time with _me_ , Rick. Your fucking choice.”

Less than ten minutes later, Rick was sound asleep, his head resting against the window as the rolled along the road. Negan decided not to take it personally.

He’d underestimated exactly how dull the drive would be on his own. He didn’t miss this, he decided. It had been a good long time since he’d been on a long trip like this- why bother doing the boring shit when he had soldiers and workers to do that for him, right?

It was too fucking quiet, and the silence needled at him. He’d never been one to find peace in isolation. He’d been on his own a long time before linking up with the group that would eventually become the Saviors, and looking back on that time now, he wasn’t sure how he’d managed it.

“Need some fucking music,” he muttered, reaching over to fiddle with the radio. He said a whispered prayer of thanks when he noticed that there was a cd already in the player- and then it started playing, warbling out a banjo-laden tune that had him wanting to claw at his eardrums. “Aw, what the fuck, Rick? You’ve gotta be shittin’ me-” he muttered, scrambling to turn the music off and shaking his head in disappointment and amusement as he spared the sleeping man beside him a wayward glance. “Should’ve fucking known with that goddamned accent of yours.”

There was far too much fondness in his voice for his comfort, and even though Rick was asleep, he bit his tongue and dragged his gaze back to the empty road. He caught himself sometimes looking at Rick a second too long, noticed how his gaze was drawn to the man’s full lips, his bright blue eyes, down the lean, muscled line of his body-

 _Shut that shit down_ , he warned himself. He’d slipped up more than once and all but steered into the mistake- _I like you, you’re special, take care of yourself._ He played it off casually, and Rick, the poor, beaten-down bastard that he was, didn’t dare look at it as anything but Negan fucking around with him.

For that, he was grateful. The last thing he needed was for Rick to get it in his head that Negan had a soft spot for him.

* * *

Throughout the rest of the drive, Negan’s gaze kept falling back to the sleeping man beside him, watching the way he curled into himself as he slept, always on the defensive. Strands of dark, curly hair fell into his face when he stirred, and the way he looked in the dying light of evening, colored in warm, fading colors, made Negan want to reach out and touch him. It would be so easy to trace a finger over the crest of his cheekbone, feel the roughness of his beard. One quick movement and he could tuck that stray lock of hair behind his ear, and Rick would never be the wiser. 

“You’re fucking losing it,” Negan muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

* * *

It had been dark for hours when Negan finally pulled over onto the side of the road, for a much-needed pit stop. _We’ve gotta be about halfway there by now_ , he figured as he headed back to the truck, re-buckling his belt. He wasn’t sure of the exact time, but it had to be well into the late hours of the night, and if the hazy fog beginning to seep into his brain was any indication, he and Rick were due to switch out on driving duty.

“Rise and shine, Rick,” Negan hummed, shaking the other man gently by the shoulder. Rick jolted awake beneath his hand, blue eyes wide and wild in their panic, and Negan let him go, palms raised in surrender. “Whoa there, killer. Don’t get your damn hackles up. It’s just me.” _Just_ him, like he wasn’t enough to set off Rick’s alarm bells. He watched as Rick relaxed, tension melting out of the man’s shoulders as he came back to himself.

“You need me to drive?” he guessed, squinting out the window at the black of the sky above them. Negan nodded, walking around the side of the truck to switch seats.

“You get enough sleep, Rick?” he asked once they were back on the road again, eyes catching on the way Rick’s chestnut curls stuck out untidily on one side where his head had been tucked against the leather seat. _Fucking cute_ , he thought.

Rick gave him a curt nod, eyes forward. “Yeah. I’m good. You can go to sleep. I’ve got it from here.”

Negan grinned through a yawn, hunkering down in his seat. “You don’t want me to stay up with you? I feel like we haven’t gotten to know each other much on this little trip, Rick. You wanna talk? Have that heart-to-heart I promised you?”

“Need to be rested for tomorrow,” Rick replied, always so damn serious.

“Fine,” Negan muttered, closing his eyes. “But you’d better not keep me up with that fuckin’ farmboy music of yours. Yeah, I heard that shit. That’s what you listen to, Rick? Shit, I oughta make you a fucking mix tape. Would you like that? Some rea-real music?” His taunting was lightened by him yawning through it, and if he’d bothered to open his eyes, he would have seen Rick biting his lip as if to hold back a rare smile.

“Shut up and go to sleep, Negan.”

* * *

“Negan.”

“Mm?”

“We’re here.”

Negan grunted tiredly, slinging an arm over his eyes to block out the early morning sunlight streaming in through the windshield. “Wha’ time’s it?”

“Just past six. The boat’s right across the lake. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here since Aaron and I left, so that’s good.” Negan heard the crinkle of a wrapper and felt something prod gently at his side. “C’mon. Wanna get this done fast.”

The sound of a car door closing made Negan move his arm away to see Rick circling around the back of the truck, presumably to unload the canoe in the back. A single granola bar laid on the center console, and something about the simple gesture made Negan’s chest ache.

He scarfed it quickly, half of it hanging out of his mouth as he walked around the back of the truck and helped Rick pull the canoe out and toward the muddy shore.

Rick hadn’t been lying- the lake’s murky surface was broken up by the bobbing corpses of the undead. It was downright unnerving, and a sudden flash of something like guilt rose up in him. _He could have easily died out here getting this shit. There’s gotta be a couple dozen of those fuckers in there…_

He shook the thought off. Rick was fine- safe and sound and gesturing for Negan to join him in the canoe. For once in his life, Negan remained deadly silent lest he further rouse the waterlogged corpses floating around them, greying skin dripping off their arms as they reached for the edges of the canoe. They were creepy as _shit_ , he thought with a shudder- bloated and even more decayed than the ones on land. Together, he and Rick paddled to the center of the lake, miraculously making it across without stirring too much trouble their wake.

He couldn’t help but think that it felt good, felt _right_ , to work so close to Rick. For once, they were on the same side. It was what he’d wanted from the beginning, what he wanted from every community that the Saviors came to conquer. Just a little cooperation…

Granted, since he was thinking about the other communities in terms of _conquering_ , some of the fault may have laid with him. He was willing to own up to that.

“The rest of the supplies are back in here,” Rick murmured, still keeping his voice low as he walked a little further into the shambling houseboat. No ammunition, Negan noticed as he rifled through the small stockpile of guns. “Yeah, they’re all empty,” Rick said with a shake of his head, “Aaron and I checked. Guess the guy must have used it up on whatever took him out or ran him off.”

Negan flashed him a grin that was all teeth and threat. “You’re not _lying_ to me are you, Rick? You sure you and your buddy didn’t stash that ammo somewhere for a rainy day?”

The tentative ease that had settled between him dissipated instantly and Rick visibly deflated, his face getting that tight, uneasy look he always wore around Negan. “No, Negan. We didn’t. If we did, why would we have left the guns?”

Negan chuckled, waving him off and hoping that the tension would die down with it- no such luck. “Fucking relax, Rick. I’m messing with you. Jesus, have you always been like this?”

Rick scowled at the floor as he began loading the remaining crates of canned goods into the canoe. “Like what?”

“Like a fucking put-upon stick-up-his-ass no-fun motherfucker. You always been like that? Or is it just me? Be honest, now.”

“Negan-”

“No, Rick! I wanna fucking know. See, I thought we had a fucking understanding, you and me. I thought we sorted this shit out. But here you are, still givin’ me that mean-ass look, like you wanna sink your teeth right into my throat, and I don’t fucking like it.”

“You wanna keep your fucking voice down?” Rick hissed, shoulders rolling back to make himself look bigger as he got up in Negan’s face, and that did it.

Negan dumped the crate he was holding into the canoe without care for the resounding clunk-splash it made, seething as he loomed over Rick. “You wanna run that by me again, Rick? Huh? You think you’re in any goddamned position to be givin’ me orders here?” Rick breathed heavily through his nose, looking like a raging bull ready to charge, and sick, morbid part of Negan wanted to keep needling him until he snapped. _Let’s see what you’ve got, Rick. I know you’re more than a pretty face._

The snarl of walkers out on the water seemed to startle Rick back into himself, and he wilted, eyes clenching shut for a moment as he took a breath to calm down.

Negan was just selfish enough to be disappointed.

He turned and ducked into the side room to collect the last crate when he heard it- a familiar snarling groan of a walker, this time far, far too close for comfort, and Rick’s panicked voice cursing behind him.

“Shit- _shit!_ ” He scrambled toward the noise to see Rick fighting off two of the undead that had managed to claw their way halfway up onto the canoe. Negan threw the crate in his arms right at the one closest to Rick, knocking it back enough to give Rick time to sink his knife into its rotten skull. Negan lurched forward to bat away the other one with Lucille, sending the thing careening back into the murky lakewater.

“That was the last of it- let’s get the fuck out of here!”

The paddled their way across the now- swarming lake as fast as they could, shoving walkers back as they went. They were so close to the shore, _so fucking close,_ when the boat pitched dangerously sideways, the clawing hands of the dead tipping them toward the depths.

It happened so fast- Rick taking one out with a knife, blue eyes wide with panic as he tried to right himself, and then the boat jerked again in the other direction and Rick yelped as he lost his footing and pitched over the side with a splash that made Negan’s heart stop in his chest.

“Rick!” He scrambled for the gun on his hip, shooting until he heard the click of the empty chamber and the lifeless bodies of the dead were bobbing facedown on the surface of the water. Negan frantically scanned the lake for a sign of Rick- bubbles rising to the surface, a hand that didn’t look as decayed-

Nothing.

“Rick!” he all but screamed, panic rising. _No, no. He can’t die out here, he can’t die because of my huge fucking mouth-_

He was barely aware of what he was doing, didn’t recall making the conscious decision to dive into the dark, muddy water until he was already over his head and sinking, the dappled light of the surface growing dimmer and dimmer.

He was all but blind, the water around him nearly black, and for a horrible, crushing moment he thought _I’m going to die out here._

He caught a glint of something below him and dove for it, reaching and reaching until his hand closed around… _yes!_ He’d caught Rick’s pale wrist, the silver of his watch catching the light from above.

Negan wrapped one arm around Rick’s middle and desperately kicked and struggled to drag them both back up to the surface. His lungs burned in his chest, his clouded vision blurring at the edges even as the light grew closer.

When he broke the surface, head nearly colliding with the side of the canoe, he gasped pathetically for air, choking as he shoved Rick’s waterlogged body up into the boat.

He didn’t dare look at him while he paddled to shore. _He’s fine. He wasn’t under that long-_

The boat hit ground and Negan pulled Rick onto the grass by his shoulders, shoving wet hair out of his face and groping at his throat for a pulse. He didn’t seem to be bitten, but his chest was utterly, unnaturally still, and when Negan felt nothing beneath his fingertips, not even a faint flutter, he began to panic.

“No, _no_ , Rick, you fucking prick, don’t you dare-”

He tipped Rick’s head back with fingers beneath his chin, pinching his nose closed and leaning in close, warm breath ghosting against Rick’s blue lips.

When Negan had pictured kissing Rick- and he had, more than once- it had never been like this, with the taste of filthy lakewater and lifeless lips beneath his own.

He gave him breaths, deep and steady, before pulling back and pressing down on the center of Rick’s quiet chest.

The horrific crack that followed nearly made him jerk away in horror, but he kept going. _Better broken than fucking dead…_

“Rick, Rick, c’mon, gorgeous. You fucking prick, don’t you fucking die on me, don’t you make me drag your fucking corpse home to your kids-”

Another press of his lips, more breaths, more compressions. Negan wasn’t sure how long he’d been going in a loop- minutes, an hour?

“Don’t- you- fucking- die- you- goddamned- prick-” he grunted in time with his pumps to Rick’s chest, and to his horror he felt his eyes beginning to sting.

_No, no no-_

Rick’s body jerked beneath his hands, a horrifically pained gurgling sound wrenching out of him as he turned his head to the side, water spilling from his mouth and nose.

Rick sounded and looked like death itself, but he was alive, spluttering and wheezing painfully as he curled onto his side, and Negan nearly collapsed on the ground beside him with relief.

“Rick,” he whispered almost reverently, one trembling hand on the man’s arm. “Fuck. You just about gave me a fucking heart attack, darlin’.”

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, him at Rick’s side, rubbing up and down the man’s back as he choked out the last of the water in his lungs. It was when he felt Rick beginning to shake violently against him that he moved, drawing the smaller man into his arms and lifting him with a grunt. Rick hissed in pain, freezing and damp, and Negan carried him back to the truck, sitting him in the passenger seat and grasping blindly in the backseat until he found a blanket.

“Need to get you out of these, Rick. You’re gonna get fucking sick staying in them,” he said gently, reaching for the buttons on the man’s shirt. Rick nodded weakly, too drained to fight, and Negan tried his best to not let his eyes linger over Rick’s exposed skin as he stripped him of his sodden shirt and jeans. He toweled him dry with a spare shirt he had shoved in his bag, careful around his broken rib, before wrapping him tightly in the blanket and rubbing warmly up the line of his back and over his arms to try to get him warm again.

“Supplies,” Rick rasped, his voice rough as sandpaper, and Negan shook his head.

“They’re back there, Rick. Gotta take care of you first, alright? They’re not fucking going anywhere.”

“ _Please_ ,” Rick groaned, face tight with pain.

Negan wasn’t sure what it meant that he jumped as soon as the word left Rick’s lips. He dragged the canoe back to the truck, sweating and grunting as he loaded it in the back.

When he got back to Rick, the man was still trembling, clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders. Negan climbed into the cab beside him, shoving the center console up so that their seats connected and scooting in close, pulling Rick into his arms despite the faint sound of protest it earned him.

“Wha- what are you-”

“You’re gonna get fucking pneumonia or some shit, Rick,” he mumbled against Rick’s damp hair. “Let me warm you up.”

Maybe it was just because Rick was exhausted from nearly drowning. Maybe it was because he figured that a half hour in Negan’s warm embrace was worth not dying. Maybe he just didn’t care- but Negan liked to think that the way Rick settled back into his arms, head tucked beneath his chin while they shared slow, deep breaths was a sign of good things to come.


End file.
